I think they also used it to indicate the library these came from. A place called Alexandria, in the country of, um…”
“Egypt,” said John, dumbfounded. “Alexandria is in Egypt.”
“Right!” said Artus. “That’s what they originally called this mess before it was the Great Whatsit, or the Royal Library, or the Archive of Paralon…
“It was called the Library of Alexandria.”
“He refers to the ‘construction’ of two mechanical men…”
C HAPTER E IGHT
The Friar’s Tale
Solomon Kaw returned with a thick, hidebound book clutched in his talons. Wings stroking mightily, he lowered the book gently to the nearby tabletop, then ducked his head in deference to the king and flew away. “Allow me,” said Artus. “It is my librar—uh, archive, after all.” He opened the old tome and began scanning the pages intently, running his fingers along the faded writing and murmuring softly to himself.
“Ah, Artus?” John began.
“A moment, please,” the king replied. “I’m just getting oriented. Even after years of studying them, I’m still finding my way around these old languages, you know.”
“But—,” said John.
“Tch,” interrupted Artus. “I realize you have specialized training, but so do I. There’s nothing you can do to make the translation process go any faster.”
“Fine,” John said, shrugging. “Read on.”
After a minute or so of examining one page, then another, and another, it became obvious to all of them that the High King was stumped.
“May I make a suggestion?” offered John.
“All right,” Artus said, finally resigned. “But I doubt you’ll have an easier time of it…”
His voice trailed off as John stepped forward and turned the old book upside down. “There,” said John. “Give that a go.”
“It’s Latin,” Artus said, crestfallen. “Now.”
“Ah, why don’t we all have a look together?” Charles suggested. “More eyes to the work, and all that.”
The king put the book in the middle of the table, and the others leaned in closely to read.
“This is one of the Histories,” said Bert in astonishment. “One of the official records written by the Caretakers.”
“I thought the Caretakers just annotated the maps in the Geographica ,” said John. “We’re meant to write Histories, too?”
“It’s not an obligation,” Bert explained, “but Caretakers have witnessed many happenings in the history of the Earth and felt compelled to record them. Originally, as with this volume and the many others like it, the accounts were simple and straightforward. It was only centuries later that we realized such documents could be dangerous in the wrong hands, and began fictionalizing our writings.”
“As you did with The Time Machine ,” said Jack.
“Yes,” said Bert, “and others. Jules did it too. And Cervantes, Shakespeare…A lot of real history, biography, and geography can be found in the fiction of the world.
“At least,” he added with a wink, “those fictions written by Caretakers.”
“This one was written by Geoffrey of Monmouth’s immediatesuccessor,” said Bert. “Robert Wace. He also had a lot to say about the Arthurian histories.”
“I remember,” said John. “He wrote a French version of Geoffrey’s Arthurian compilations and dedicated it to Eleanor of Aquitaine. He’s also the source of the story about Arthur’s legendary Round Table.”
“It isn’t actually round,” Artus confided to Charles. “It’s more oblong, but it still served the same purpose, I think.”
“What does it say about the message?” asked Jack. “Does it say anything about a Crusade?”
“The actual Crusades in your world had already begun nearly a century earlier,” said Bert. “But I don’t think the message had anything to do with those. We have two clues to go on. First, Jamie mentioned a memory of a Crusade myth; then, the Morgaine said that something had changed Time—and they both alluded to it as an event that
“Egypt,” said John, dumbfounded. “Alexandria is in Egypt.”
“Right!” said Artus. “That’s what they originally called this mess before it was the Great Whatsit, or the Royal Library, or the Archive of Paralon…
“It was called the Library of Alexandria.”
“He refers to the ‘construction’ of two mechanical men…”
C HAPTER E IGHT
The Friar’s Tale
Solomon Kaw returned with a thick, hidebound book clutched in his talons. Wings stroking mightily, he lowered the book gently to the nearby tabletop, then ducked his head in deference to the king and flew away. “Allow me,” said Artus. “It is my librar—uh, archive, after all.” He opened the old tome and began scanning the pages intently, running his fingers along the faded writing and murmuring softly to himself.
“Ah, Artus?” John began.
“A moment, please,” the king replied. “I’m just getting oriented. Even after years of studying them, I’m still finding my way around these old languages, you know.”
“But—,” said John.
“Tch,” interrupted Artus. “I realize you have specialized training, but so do I. There’s nothing you can do to make the translation process go any faster.”
“Fine,” John said, shrugging. “Read on.”
After a minute or so of examining one page, then another, and another, it became obvious to all of them that the High King was stumped.
“May I make a suggestion?” offered John.
“All right,” Artus said, finally resigned. “But I doubt you’ll have an easier time of it…”
His voice trailed off as John stepped forward and turned the old book upside down. “There,” said John. “Give that a go.”
“It’s Latin,” Artus said, crestfallen. “Now.”
“Ah, why don’t we all have a look together?” Charles suggested. “More eyes to the work, and all that.”
The king put the book in the middle of the table, and the others leaned in closely to read.
“This is one of the Histories,” said Bert in astonishment. “One of the official records written by the Caretakers.”
“I thought the Caretakers just annotated the maps in the Geographica ,” said John. “We’re meant to write Histories, too?”
“It’s not an obligation,” Bert explained, “but Caretakers have witnessed many happenings in the history of the Earth and felt compelled to record them. Originally, as with this volume and the many others like it, the accounts were simple and straightforward. It was only centuries later that we realized such documents could be dangerous in the wrong hands, and began fictionalizing our writings.”
“As you did with The Time Machine ,” said Jack.
“Yes,” said Bert, “and others. Jules did it too. And Cervantes, Shakespeare…A lot of real history, biography, and geography can be found in the fiction of the world.
“At least,” he added with a wink, “those fictions written by Caretakers.”
“This one was written by Geoffrey of Monmouth’s immediatesuccessor,” said Bert. “Robert Wace. He also had a lot to say about the Arthurian histories.”
“I remember,” said John. “He wrote a French version of Geoffrey’s Arthurian compilations and dedicated it to Eleanor of Aquitaine. He’s also the source of the story about Arthur’s legendary Round Table.”
“It isn’t actually round,” Artus confided to Charles. “It’s more oblong, but it still served the same purpose, I think.”
“What does it say about the message?” asked Jack. “Does it say anything about a Crusade?”
“The actual Crusades in your world had already begun nearly a century earlier,” said Bert. “But I don’t think the message had anything to do with those. We have two clues to go on. First, Jamie mentioned a memory of a Crusade myth; then, the Morgaine said that something had changed Time—and they both alluded to it as an event that
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